Balm
by Regina lacrimarum
Summary: Ten moments in a relationship. Ginny/Hermione semi-drabbles, with Hermione as the central character.
1. On the Platform

She was going to be late! It had taken her too long to figure out how to get onto the platform, and she just knew the train would pull out without her.

Hermione was running flat out, and it must be confessed that she was not entirely careful about where she was going. She caught only a flash of copper hair and red wool before she was on the ground, tangled in among limbs foreign to her.

As soon as she was able, Hermione scrambled to her feet, apologizing profusely.

"It's okay, it's okay," the poor victim of Hermione's haste repeated over and over. She was a small girl, Hermione's age or a little younger, with entirely too much hair for her round face. Now her mother was hurrying over from where she had been talking to two older boys.

"Are you all right, dear?" the matron asked gently.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'm so sorry." And then she tore off across the platform and leaped aboard the train, leaving Ginny and her mother staring after her.

Later on, when everything was falling apart, Hermione would remember the first glimpse of those mild brown eyes.


	2. Blame

The redhead was sitting alone in the Gryffindor common room, finishing the Transfiguration homework Hermione had heard her mention earlier. Hermione, who was, naturally, ahead in all of her classes, was going down to find Harry and Ron and say goodbye to Hagrid, but she hesitated on the stairs. She didn't know whether she ought to walk past Ginny in silence, or greet the younger girl. The two girls hadn't spoken since Hermione had returned from her Petrifaction.

As it happened, the decision was to be made for her. Ginny looked up as she was passing, and murmured, "Hi, Hermione."

Hermione smiled uncertainly. Since her awakening, she had often caught Ginny staring at her with an odd look on her face, and she wasn't exactly sure what it portended. Now, she suspected she might be about to find out. "Hello, Ginny."

Ginny cleared her throat and looked down at her paper. She muttered something under her breath, and Hermione strained to hear her.

"I'm sorry?"

Ginny glanced up for a moment and then drew her gaze back down. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

Hermione blinked. "For what?" The first-year didn't respond, but Hermione understood. "Ginny..."

She walked across the room and sat down on the couch next to her friend. "It wasn't your fault."

Ginny didn't meet her eyes. "You could've died," she whispered.

"But I didn't. And besides, even Dumbledore says it wasn't your fault." Hermione could hear that she sounded dismissive, but she wasn't sure how to get her point across. She reached out and put her hand on top of Ginny's. "It was You-Know-Who, that's it. You're as much a victim as I am."

She could see that Ginny didn't believe her, and she didn't think she could do anything about that, but she could at least show Ginny that she really didn't blame her. She shifted her hand so that she was holding the other girl by her fingers, and got up from the couch.

"Harry and Ron and I are going to Hagrid's. Do you want to come?" She asked timidly, unsure what the response would be.

Slowly and uncertainly, Ginny nodded and stood up. Hermione clasped her hand more tightly, and the two girls walked out of the common room together.

* * *

A/N: If you really squint, the story is already romance, but the elder of the two is only twelve, so I prefer to interpret this as merely friendship.


	3. Research

The words on the page were blurring, and Hermione slumped her head in frustration. A second later, she jerked her head back up, terrified lest she had spilled a tear on the precious pages. To her great relief, the book was safe, and she wiped her eyes.

The gesture was futile, for a minute later, her vision was blurry again. Buckbeak was going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it. Books had failed her.

At this point, she would ordinarily have sought out her two best friends, but they were unavailable to her at the moment, which was the second reason for her grief. She was used to being alone in the library, and welcomed the solitude, but this was a different state of alone. Now, when she shelved again the books she couldn't check out-no point making Madam Pince go to the trouble-she would carry her unhappiness with her out the door, and wherever she went in the castle. She could not outrun this.

Even in first year, when she had simply been a know-it-all in the front row of the classroom, she had never been this lonely. Then, she had been used to not having any friends, used to the mockery and disgust, used to burying her nose in a book to escape the titters. No one had spoken to her then, and that had been normalcy. Now the titters were gone. In their place was an uncomfortable silence, because everyone knew that Harry and Ron were Not Speaking to Hermione.

From the other side of the table came a gentle cough, and she looked up, flushing to be seen caring. Ginny Weasley stood across from her, holding her own books. "I was just passing by and saw you."

Hermione knew perfectly well that her seat could not be seen from any aisle other than the one leading to it, and only to it. She had chosen it for exactly this reason; Slytherins did occasionally venture into the library, and they were unhampered in their mistreatment of Hermione by any concern for Harry's feelings.

However, Hermione also knew well that Ginny was trying to be tactful by not mentioning the sound of her crying, so she just gestured to the chair Ginny was standing behind. "Would you like to sit down?"

Ginny removed her slender hands from the scarred wood of the back and pulled the chair out. "Still haven't found anything?"

Hermione sighed heavily. "Nothing! I was sure there would be _something_. I mean, the situation has to have come up before, right?"

"Can I help?"

Hermione bit her tongue to keep from jumping on the chance for assistance. Ginny was an outside sort of person, and she didn't want to keep her friend from the beautiful day. She said as much, and cautioned, "It's horrible work."

Ginny smiled a little. "This may surprise you, Hermione, but I can do research, too."

Hermione's brown eyes widened. "Oh, no. I didn't mean-"

She broke off. Ginny was grinning widely.

"So," the second-year asked, "What can I do to help?"

* * *

Two hours after Ginny's arrival, the two were no closer to finding anything useful, and Hermione saw that Ginny wasn't planning on mentioning hee obvious exhaustion. Feeling guilty, Hermione snapped her book shut and stretched ostentatiously. "Well, I'm done."

A single glance upwards through her lashes was enough to tell Hermione that Ginny wasn't buying it, but both girls got up anyway, gathering their books. They walked together until they were out of the library, when Hermione turned to go back to the dormitory to set down her materials before dinner. Ginny declined to accompany her, saying she had an errand to run.

Hermione had only gone a few steps, when she realized that she had left her bag. As she turned to return to the library, she saw Lavender waving furiously at Ginny. "Where're you going, Gin?"

In Hermione's opinion, Ginny showed great forbearance. She answered in a manner most amiable, though abstruse. "Hello, Lavender. I'm off to see some boys about a girl."

* * *

A/U: Here you can see it starting to get AU. Note that this is not a Hurt/Comfort fic, though I know this chapter and the last one tend that way.


	4. By the Fire

A/N: In case anyone wonders, this takes place in Hermione's third year, Ginny's second, as the last one did.

* * *

Hermione had always despised what Lavender and Parvati did, leaning in close and whispering to each other, occasionally casting sideways looks at other people as though they knew a secret and were purposely keeping it to themselves.

Now Ginny was doing the very same thing, darting glances at her red-faced brother to make sure that he wouldn't hear her and become even more enraged. Hermione obediently moved closer to her on the couch and breathed in the faint scent of flowers. Now she was whispering, breathing mint onto Hermione's cheek. Now she was brushing a strand of long, straight hair back from her own cheek, which was golden with firelight. Her eyes glinted with amusement.

"It was Snape, again..."

"Professor Snape," Hermione corrected her, but she was speaking on autopilot, for she was having a hard time concentrating on anything except the knee brushing against hers. Hermione suddenly saw the attraction of what Lavender and Parvati did.


	5. The Otter

A/N: This is set at the beginning of the fourth year.

* * *

When Hermione awoke on the 19th of September, 1994, Ginny Weasley was sitting cross-legged on her bed. Hermione sat up immediately, tugging down on her shirt, which had ridden up her abdomen to the bottom of her rib cage. "Good morning?"

Ginny grinned broadly. "Happy birthday, Hermione!"

Hermione blinked. "I'm sorry?" How had she known? Even Harry and Ron didn't know, or at least, they never remembered.

Ginny looked as though she thought herself very clever indeed. "I had to project futures for my friends once for Professor Trelawney. It required knowing everyone's birthday, and I wrote it all down."

"Oh." Hermione was torn between feeling that any information gained in order to complete a Divination assignment should be forgotten as soon as possible, and being impressed, because that sort of fact-hording was something at which she herself was very good. She settled for saying, "You're sitting on my bed."

"Yes." Ginny's smile now seemed almost shy. "I got you a present." Brown eyes sparkling, she held up a clenched fist and opened it to reveal a glinting object held between forefinger and thumb. She extended it, and Hermione saw that it was an inch-high figure of an otter.

"It's beautiful," Hermione said truthfully, but without the sort of wild enthusiasm that would have characterized another girl's reaction to such a gift. Utility came before pulchritude in Hermione's book, if not in the dictionary.

Ginny now appeared decidedly smug, and Hermione knew her friend had noticed that she wasn't enthralled. "It also has something else that makes it interesting, at least to _me_."

Ginny drew out her wand and put it to her head. A second later, she pulled the stick away, and a silvery strand came with it, from her head. She touched the otter with her wand, and the wisp entered into the belly of the figurine.

Hermione could feel her eyes growing as large as saucers. "Is that a Pensieve?"

Ginny nodded and looked down, admitting, "It's a small one, and it's not new. I got it in Egypt, which is apparently where they're all made. They're a knut a dozen in Cairo."

After a moment, she added, "It was a scarab, then, but somehow an otter seemed... right. Fred and George showed me the spell to transfigure it."

She handed it to Hermione, who set it down very carefully on her bedside table and hurled herself at Ginny, who accepted the bone-crushing hug with obvious pleasure.

After a minute, the two girls broke away, and Hermione looked around. "Where is everyone?" The dormitory was deserted except for herself and Ginny.

Her friend explained, "They've all gone down to breakfast. I was going to wake you in a moment, so you'd have time to eat."

Hermione dressed hastily and went down to breakfast. She let the Pensieve lie on her bedside table whenever she wasn't using it. From then on, the first thing Hermione saw in the morning, and the last thing she saw at night, was the blue-white glow from Ginny Weasley's memory.


	6. Ink

A/N: This is AU. This means that Ginny is currently entirely single.

* * *

_Dear Hermione_, the letter began. It was a form salutation, but it seemed very personal written in that careless hand. Ginny slanted her letters to the right. Hermione had read something somewhere about people like that, but she couldn't remember what it was. Anyway, graphology was pseudoscience.

She noticed the ink more than she did the handwriting. The ink looked pure black in the well, but on paper it had a violet tint. The sheen was barely noticeable unless you knew it was there, such as if, say, you had given it to the writer. It was a bit nicer than Ginny herself could afford, and indeed Hermione had saved a bit for the kit that had included it, but Ginny wrote letter after letter to friends and family, and it was a crime for her to have to use cheap parchment and cheaper ink.

Hermione raised her head from the letter. Someone was coming upstairs. She refolded the letter, barely needing to exert effort, for it fell easily into creases. If the parchment hadn't been so nice, the constant folding and unfolding would already have worn holes in it.

Ginny danced into the room, grinning. "Guess who's coming tomorrow!"

Hermione quickly tucked the letter into her pocket. "I can't imagine," she said dryly.

"Ron will _finally_ stop moping about the house."

Hermione laughed a little. It was true. He had followed her around for the first few days after her arrival at the Burrow, until she had lost patience and shooed him away. Now he was lurking in shadows, searching for someone to tolerate his bizarre moods.

Ginny reached for Hermione's hand, grasped it firmly, and pulled her off the bed. They spun together, and ended up in a dance position, with Ginny having pulled Hermione in towards her. They stood together for a second, and then Ginny spun Hermione out again. Both girls laughed.

It might have ended there, but Hermione was still giddy from the amusement of the spontaneous gesture, and she stumbled on her way out of the door. On her way down, her foot caught Ginny's leg, and the redhead landed on top of her.

Now they were both laughing so hard that neither could move for it, so Ginny just stayed there for a minute. Eventually, though, Hermione had to insist. "All right, Ginny, get off."

Ginny prepared to oblige, sitting up across Hermione's stomach. Hermione stared just below her friend's knees, where the fabric of Ginny's jeans stopped being so scandalously tight. Mercifully, this situation should end soon, when Ginny got to her feet.

Except that she didn't. Hermione looked up, and followed Ginny's gaze to her peripheral vision, where she could just make out a blur of parchment. The letter had fallen out of her pocket.

Still straddling Hermione, Ginny used one hand to restrain Hermione, who had been reaching for the letter, by her wrists. Having only one hand available to manipulate the letter, Ginny had to use her teeth to unfold the parchment, and Hermione caught a flash of pink tongue. She stared at the ink for just a second, and Hermione could tell where she was looking. The letter was dated three months ago.

Ginny carefully refolded the piece of paper, still with her teeth. Hermione couldn't read her expression.

Setting the piece of paper back on the floor, Ginny released Hermione's hands. The brunette didn't try to move, so paralyzed was she with the fear that Ginny had realized the letter's significance.

Apparently not, because Ginny seemed to be shifting her weight in order to lift herself off of the floor, but she wasn't frowning.

It was strange, though. Instead of moving up and to the side, Ginny was pressing down, bringing her head further and further towards Hermione's. Her copper hair swung on either side of her face, brushing Hermione's ears. Hermione, who was as helpless as if Ginny still had control of her hands, stared wide-eyed as Ginny's face grew larger and larger until all Hermione could see were big brown eyes with their long lashes.

Ginny's lips brushed against hers, soft and sweet. Her weight was so far forward that her thighs were on Hermione's ribcage, with her knees just under her breasts. The pressure should have been uncomfortable, but somehow Hermione couldn't find it in her heart to mind.

Closing her eyes, Hermione felt a gentle tug on her hair, and realized that Ginny had wrapped a bunch of curls around her hand. She was so distracted by this interesting gesture that she almost didn't notice that Ginny had slipped her tongue into Hermione's mouth.

I say almost, because it was a very prominent sensation, and a second later Hermione was so surprised to feel it that she bit down.

Ginny yanked away, and Hermione's eyes shot open. "I'm so sorry!" She apologized frantically again and again, and Ginny's reassurances were washed away in a fit of giggles.

Five minutes later, when Mrs. Weasley came upstairs to see why the girls had not responded to her call to supper, she found them lying side by side on the floor, still laughing.

* * *

A/N: I considered copying the text of the letter, but I decided not to, since that wasn't the focus of this piece. The important thing is that the letter was written and read.

Every time I write romance I skate a little closer to M. I don't think I'll ever do it, because I'm a bit of a prude, and just reading it makes me blush, but this level of contact is fun to write and, hopefully, to read. Please review.


	7. Kitchen

It was a hot summer afternoon, and the sun streamed in. Hermione, who was washing the dishes manually because Mrs. Weasley was running errands, squinted out the window to see if Ron and Harry were coming back from wherever they had dashed off to. They weren't, so she lowered her head back to the sink.

The Burrow had no air conditioning, and the humidity threatened to overwhelm Hermione. She brushed a damp curl from her face with a sud-covered hand.

Ginny said from the doorway, "By the way, I meant to tell you earlier. Mum said Fred and George are coming for dinner."

Hermione finished the last dish, placed on the rack to dry, and turned to face her girlfriend, fumbling with her apron strings as she did so. "All right. Damn. It doesn't want to come undone." Actually, by touching it with her wet hands, she had made the knot worse. She couldn't get a grip on it.

"Merlin, it's hot in here," Ginny said as she stepped into the room. "Here, can I help you with that?" She twirled her finger in the air, and Hermione immediately turned back around to face the counter. The apron tightened a little around her waist as Ginny took hold of the knot.

A few minutes later, the apron swung loose. Hermione pulled it over her head and set it on its hook. She turned and laughed aloud. Ginny was balancing a spoon on her nose. It teetered for a moment and then plunged towards the ground, but Ginny caught it between two fingers. Looking up at Hermione's raised eyebrow, she grinned.

"Do you need to do anything else in here?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Let's go out for a bit, then."

Hermione acquiesced readily enough and they left the Burrow together, knocking into each other as they tried to go through the door at the same time. Ginny laughed and teasingly swept her hand out to indicate that Hermione should precede her. Once that was sorted out, they set off down the path, brushing shoulders as they ambled on.

* * *

A/N: Well, that had nothing to do with anything. It was very different in my head at first, but once I actually started writing, I realized that what I really wanted to do was show a very casual moment.


	8. Breakfast

A/N: This takes place near the end of sixth year.

* * *

Ginny was wearing black robes. They did her complexion no favours, but it was standard for students, and anyway nothing could make her look really bad. Underneath she had on blue jeans, a maroon top, and a silver pendant shaped like a broomstick. When she tucked her hair behind her ears, it was obvious that she had recently gotten a second piercing. The little diamond glinted in the light from the enchanted ceiling.

Hermione had been with her when she had gotten it. She hadn't wanted to come, but Ginny had asked nicely. It had worked out well in the end, because Molly Weasley had been a lot calmer once her daughter pointed out to her-somewhat untruthfully-that even Hermione didn't mind.

It had grown on Hermione, but she had never said anything. After all, that would be almost admitting that she had been wrong about something. Hermione Granger was never wrong, even about fashion.

Now she just wished she could tell Ginny how much she loved it.

Harry was offering Ginny what looked like strawberry jam. That was, Hermione thought irritably, rather stupid of him. Everyone knew Ginny didn't like strawberry jam. Strawberries, yes. There were some bittersweet memories built around that fact. But never strawberry jam.

Ginny took the jam, thanked him and smiled. He grinned awkwardly at her, and Hermione ungenerously pondered his resemblance to a concussed chihuahua.

Dumbledore arose gracefully from the high table, his sign that breakfast was over. Ginny and Harry got up simultaneously. A few hand gestures later, they strolled off towards Ginny's first class. Hermione sniffed disdainfully. Harry, like Hermione, had Potions first, on the other side of the castle. His desperation was clear.

Ron had sprinted off to find Dean to ask him something, and Neville was trapped in a corner listening to Luna pontificate on something bizarre. Hermione rose slowly, gathered up her books, and walked to Potions alone.


	9. The Ivory and the Horn

Ron looked at her, smiling bravely, but she knew how much he didn't want to do this. "I'll do a warming charm as soon as you come out," she promised. Harry patted him on the shoulder reassuringly, and he turned to face the frozen water.

A moment later he was in the water, and Hermione gasped from sympathetic shock. Taking a step onto the pond's surface, she felt the crackle of the ice and jumped back a little. Ron was nearly to the bottom now, and was grasping for the sword. Hermione was holding her breath and praying that Ron could hold his.

Ron surfaced an eternity later, teeth chattering and lips blue. Hermione grabbed the sword, flung it onto the ground a safe distance from the water, and joined Harry in hauling Ron out of the water. Harry quickly wrapped a blanket, brought from the tent especially for that purpose, around him. Pointing her wand at Ron's torso, Hermione did her bit, murmuring "_Calefacio_." Though she repeated the spell twice more, once on his legs and once on his arms, it was some time before Ron stopped shivering.

It was only when Ron seemed warm and relaxed enough to function properly enough that Hermione pulled the locket off her neck and set it down on a rock. "Go ahead, Harry," she said.

She and Ron waited expectantly, but Harry was shaking his head. "It can't be me," he replied.

Hermione laughed incredulously. "Who, then? Ron? He's half dead of cold at the moment."

Harry just kept shaking his head. "No, not Ron, either. You."

"Me?" Hermione squeaked.

Ron seemed equally disbelieving. "What makes you think Hermione _can_ do it?"

Well, that could have been said a bit more tactfully, but Hermione agreed with him in the essentials.

Harry met Hermione's eyes and shrugged. "Look, it's just a feeling I have, all right? But I think it needs to be you."

Hermione wanted to continue refusing, but Harry's green eyes were steady and sure, and after all, he had the world's most massive hero complex. She knew he wouldn't make her do this unless he thought it was absolutely necessary. She sighed. "Fine. Give me the sword."

Harry picked it up from where it had been unceremoniously cast onto the ground and handed it to her hilt first. Hermione took it in one trembling hand, marveling at the weight of it.

She turned to face the locket. "Be careful," Harry warned her as he moved into position, ready to open the locket. She nodded minutely, shifting her grip so that both hands were on the sword and she could actually lift it, wishing he'd just open the damn thing and get it over with.

And then the locket opened.

It rose slowly into the air, and tendrils of fog crept out. Hermione watched the hovering necklace warily for a moment, making sure it wouldn't bite her. That moment was too long.

The creature that strutted out of the fog was mostly human and female, with an angular face that was as beautiful as it was terrifying. Yet there was something undeniably reptilian about her appearance.

"Hello, love." The voice was raspy and soft, but it seemed to echo off the trees. Every icicle on every branch threw the words maliciously back at Hermione. "I mean that," the creature continued conversationally, "purely as a figure of speech. I mean, it's something of a misnomer for you, isn't it? Love!" She laughed and flicked out her fingers in front of her.

A large, gleaming apple appeared in her hand, and she brought it near to her nose, sniffing appreciatively. "Well, really, Hermione, did you think it'd be different this time? Think about it. These two nitwits have been using you all along." There was a nasty crunch as she took a bite of the apple and without knowing why she did it, Hermione put a hand on her chest, straining to breathe.

"It's actually really ironic," the thing said thoughtfully, as a thin black tongue slithered over her plump top lip in a sickening parody of the classic flirtatious gesture. "They've been using you to avoid having to learn, but _she_ was just using you to study her...technique."

Sharp teeth flashed white as they took another bite of the apple. Hermione stared at the flesh of the fruit, hypnotized. The hand on her chest opened and clenched convulsively.

The creature flexed a slender wrist and hurled the apple over her shoulder. "Poor Hermione. Poor, silly Hermione." She was walking forward now, shaking her head. "Did you think she liked you?" She waggled a finger in reproach. "You should have known better. After all, look at her."

There was no new appearance, nothing moved. But suddenly the strange not-woman was gone and Ginny was there. Hermione tried to focus on her face, to meet her kindly eyes, but somehow she was all long white legs and predatory grace. The redhead reached into the shadow of a nearby tree and Harry stepped out to meet her. He was grinning like he couldn't believe his luck, and Ginny smirked.

But as she was pulling Harry into her embrace, the self-satisfaction in her expression faded, and she stared past Hermione. Hermione, who was by this time just trying to stay upright and keep from dropping the sword, glanced over her shoulder. Something was emerging from the lake.

Hermione half turned, trying to watch both the locket's specter and the silvery animal advancing towards them. It raised its head, and to her surprise Hermione saw that it was just an otter.

Just an otter in that it wasn't a kelpie or grindylow or such. But this was not really _just_ anything. Its eyes were shining, and it seemed to walk on the air, rather than touching the ground. Hermione might have thought it was a Patronus-her Patronus-except that she hadn't called one. The air around it pulsated oddly and as it approached Hermione, the temperature rose several degrees.

The otter touched her leg, and Hermione felt flooded with warmth, rising in a tide from the creature's paw up through her body, until it curled up in her chest. Hermione hadn't even realized that her heart felt as though it was being crushed until now, when the pressure eased. There might have been an arm around her shoulder, but he could only stare at the otter, which was transforming, growing taller, changing form, becoming a girl. Becoming Hermione herself.

Hermione stared in wonder at the young woman, who stood straight and tall and confident, looking proudly back at her through clear eyes. Hermione as seen by another.

And the two walked together into the mist. As they passed, the phantom Ginny hissed insults, but Hermione kept on walking through, till she saw the locket hanging heavy in the air.

Hermione's wrists were shaking, ready to drop the sword, but she mustered her strength and raised the weapon, bringing it down in a stroke more free fall than guided effort. An anguished scream rent the air, and the wind picked up, but Hermione held on.

When the mist cleared, Hermione opened eyes tightly shut against the world, let the sword fall to her side, and turned to face her friends. Ron was silent, but Harry said quietly, "She told me she couldn't, you know. That there was someone else."

Hermione nodded, thrust the sword into the earth, and walked back to camp.


	10. Battlefield

A/N: This is the last chapter! Hopefully some of you are still with me.

* * *

There was so much blood. Hermione's broken fingers, grasping feebly at her injured side, were sticky with it. Most of it wasn't hers; her wound was internal. Her mouth tasted of iron, and when her lips parted to let a thin stream of air into her lungs, a trickle of blood ran down her chin.

The day was sticky with heat, and Hermione could hardly tell where blood stopped and sweat began. Their smells mingled with that of the lake mud coating everything, and the resulting stench would have made Hermione gag if she hadn't already been used to it.

Struggling to hold her wand in her left hand, Hermione raised her head and surveyed the battlefield. There was Ron, grinning wearily. There was Harry, standing tall with his wand still raised. The cheers for his miraculous resurrection and victory sounded somehow tinny in Hermione's ears. She looked her best friend up and down, trying to summon joy, but everything hurt.

She had never known there were so _many_ types of pain. Needles in her fingers, spikes in her ribs, and hammer blows to her head. Most of the pain, though, was in her heart and mind. She couldn't turn her head without seeing another corpse, and even if she shut her eyes, Bellatrix Lestrange leered at her. The terror of that image should have died when she'd seen the monster fall, but it hadn't.

Harry had lowered his wand now, but he kept it out. None of the Death Eaters seemed overly inclined to challenge him-after all, he'd just come back to life before their eyes-but it was wise to be cautious. Hermione groped about on the ground around her for her wand, but she came up with one she'd never seen before.

It'd have to do. If Harry needed her, she could make this wand, or any wand, work. Still, this one felt...wrong. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that she didn't want to know who its rightful owner was.

Oh, and wasn't that interesting. The sky was getting darker, and the world was caving in. Hermione tried to blink, but her eyes wouldn't open again. They had been sewn shut.

* * *

Harry was alive. Ron was alive. Fred was-no. She couldn't think about Fred.

Ginny scanned the field anxiously, counting friends. Everyone was accounted for but one, but one made all the difference.

Her stomach tightened. The last thing she'd said to Hermione had been that she'd never wanted to see the other girl again. _And over what?_ A stupid spat. About summer vacation.

Ginny kept her eyes to the ground to avoid tripping over rocks and severed limbs. The carnage was unbelievable, and she focused on finding Hermione to keep from throwing up.

Despite her best efforts, Ginny's foot caught in the shredded remnants of a robe, and she stopped to pull herself free. She looked down at her ankle and gagged at the creature to which the fragile rags now bound her. Arms slashed to the bone, face ashen and slack.

Ginny tipped her foot viciously away from its entanglements and took a step back. Then she bit her lip, for there might have been something in that chest, a rising and falling. She knelt. Pulling the gory blouse back from the victim's neck, she felt for the jugular.

There was a pulse! Ginny shouted for assistance, marveling at how the girl clung to life. She bit her lip again, for even on the hazy battlefield, something gleamed. There was a pendant around the girl's neck.

Ginny's clumsy hands grasped at the heavy chain, and she pulled it up out of the clothes hiding it.

Glinting between her fingers was a small figurine of an otter. Someone had affixed a chain to the top with the apparent aim of wearing it as a good luck token, big and awkward as it was.

Harry ran up. "What is it?"

"She's alive," Ginny whispered, and held up the pearly charm. Harry's scream for a mediwizard was just part of the roaring in her ears. She could barely breathe. The world narrowed to Hermione's blood and Hermione's pallid skin.

The mediwizards came, and Hermione was borne away on high to the castle. Ginny stumbled over a fllen tree limb in her attempt to follow, and Harry caught her. She clutched at his cloak and muttered, "I have to be there. I have to be there when she...wakes up." Harry nodded, and Ginny let herself go limp in his arms.

* * *

He had done it. He had saved them all. So why did he feel like all there was was death around him? This war had killed so many.

Not Hermione, though. Not Ron, not Hermione, and not Ginny. Everything else was secondary. Harry shifted Ginny up, more securely into his hold, and set off toward Hogwarts. He had survived, and those who mattered most had survived, too.

They had survived. Now it was time for them to live.


End file.
